Fate Tested
by hesitantdancer
Summary: Peeta's POV for the reaping of the 74th Hunger Games. A brief oneshot that looks at where his head is at. Everlark vibes from Peeta's end.


Automatically I get up, and make my way to get dressed and ready for the day. As much as I try to pretend that today is a normal day I know that it's not. I can feel the special dinner my mother made late night, trying to make a reappearance. As if making something expensive and exquisite will help with anything. If I lose the draw today what I ate for dinner last night will not help anyone. I know that my parents are just trying to comfort us, but I can see past it. I have been able to see past it since I was 12. I would say that their fear makes me more nervous. That when even the adults are afraid you know it's bad. But honestly, the reaping is the one time of the year that I can really tell that my mother actually loves me. She tries to love me all the time, but it's when I am in danger that you can tell that somewhere deep down she doesn't want any of us to die. I should know that all the time, and it's probably true more than I realize, but it certainly doesn't feel that way.

Mother greets me with an icy and yet concerned stare as I get down stairs and straightens my collar as if the alignment of my collar actually means something. As if, were the fates to be cruel the position of my shirt would be on anyone's mind. If anything the majority of the district would be stuck between feeling grateful it wasn't someone they loved and pity because we all know that District 12 tributes are basically just cannon fodder. But thinking this way isn't going to help anyone. We all know it's true and the idea of another capitol spectacular makes me sick but there isn't much I can do about it now.

So I joke with my brothers. We do the same thing every year where we talk tough, listing off what we would do with the fame and fortune. None of us want it though. I vividly remember a panic attack before the first games where I was eligible. I was twelve and the idea of being put in there terrified me even more than it does now, if you can imagine. And I looked up and saw the same terror reflecting back at me in my brother's eyes. Ryen had always appeared to be so strong and stoic. The older brother who could do anything. Be it stopping the monsters or beating you at everything and making you work harder than you thought you could. It was because of him that I've gotten better at hiding it.

Seeing the mutual terror is weirdly comforting because you know you're not alone. But it is also chilling to see that your heroes are just as frightened as you are. And for that reason this silent oath to pretend that this isn't a tragedy is holding strong. We watch out peers go in year after year, and it's no longer like watching an explosion, because those are accidental. This is just watching people you may or may not know go in and die is some gruesome manner. Predestined slaughter.

Death is not uncommon here, in a district where food is hard to come by. I know that I am 'blessed' and fortunate to be well fed. If I make it past the reaping age I will be expected to find some merchant class girl and start some enterprise or help with the bakery. Being third in line means it is less than likely that I will have that opportunity, even though odds are I enjoy the work the most out of the three of us. But that's not really what matters here. Lineage and luck play into everything. At every reaping Effie Trinket may say 'May the odds be ever in your favor' but often it feels like the odds rule out whole lives here.

So I stand in line I get pricked and sorted and I get into the herd ready to receive my fate. Ready to see who will go down this year. Will I know them? Perhaps a close friend? Maybe an acquaintance? A brother? I try to steady my breathing as a random girl is selected. In my head a soft chant forms, of all the people I wish could be spared. Almost the moment I think of her name I hear Effie's voice echoing through the yard "Primrose Everdeen". Panic. Not Katniss, but close enough. Sure as can be she rises up, standing tall against those slumped down trying to blend in. And for the first time in the history of our district someone has the guts to volunteer. Of course it would be Katniss. It's the kind of bull headed unbelievably kind thing that makes her so wonderful in the first place. A tragic flaw and yet a heroic strength at the same time.

I feel sick. I'd rather be in there myself and I would do most anything to keep myself out of it all, but I don't think I'll be able to just watch her die. And yet I barely know her. And yet I feel like I know her so well.

I close my eyes. I know that I am not the only one who is completely shaken by this turn of events. Many have seen her help pull her family up after her father's death. People like her are rare in the seam, rare in District 12. Fighters, who inspire everyone else to try a little bit harder. My chant has changed. I have gone from trying to protect those I care for (because it wasn't working anyway) and begin to list all of the reasons why she will survive. She is a fighter. She is strong. Katniss knows more about hunting and survival than the rest of our year in school together. The people of the capitol like a beautiful, strong individual. She'll get sponsors.

For the first time I need to think that the world isn't dictated by odds or fate. I need the world to be ruled by sheer force of will. Because if it is, she will come back.

I am so focused on Katniss' fate, that I don't hear my own name being called.

* * *

a/n long time no write, I hope it's respectable, if there are errors or suggestions let me know. Thanks for reading.


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